


Safe In His Arms

by Eliyes



Category: New Teen Titans
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Cyborgs, Gen, Nightmares, Shapeshifting, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 10:59:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliyes/pseuds/Eliyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vic is pulling a boring monitor duty shift; Gar is having trouble sleeping. </p><p>(Together, they fight crime! But not during this story.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe In His Arms

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place during the New Teen Titans, before Titans Hunt starts; Gar is 16 and Vic is 19.
> 
> This story was originally posted on Livejournal July 2, 2005.

 

Monitor duty was pretty boring when nothing much was happening. Vic Stone sat in front of the array of screens and communications gear and sheer computerized _stuff_ , and tried not to yawn. He wasn’t tired; he didn’t actually need much sleep. He was just really _bored_.

The Titans monitored all police bands in the area, and a few other frequencies used by the military. So far the cops seemed to be handling the usual spate of robberies, thefts, muggings, break-ins, _et cetera_ pretty well on their own. The military frequencies were silent tonight. There were no calls from the JLA, the JSA, the Outsiders, or anyone else. Dick Grayson was out patrolling the town, since it was his turn. It was usually his turn, he liked doing it. Every now and then he’d report in about having stopped a mugging or whatever before the cops got there.

Vic was scrolling through the headlines of breaking news from around the world. The computer would save all the stories, and it automatically searched for keywords in various languages and brought things to his attention. He was scrolling through the headlines anyway, looking for something to read.

While skimming a long and not particularly interesting article about scientific advances in holography, Vic’s acute hearing picked up a faint noise from one of the internal security feeds, a sort of light shuffling noise. He recognized the sound as that of Gar Logan’s slippered feet making their way to the rec room. Glancing at the clock, he guessed that Gar was after warm milk, or something else soothing, since it was just past 3am. The rec room was the closest thing to a kitchen the Tower currently had.

Gar, Vic knew, often had trouble sleeping. Their rooms here in the Tower shared a wall, and Vic’s enhanced hearing let him hear every little thing… Gar had a lot of unpleasant dreams. Vic wondered if being in the Tower helped at all, if that was why Gar slept here so frequently. Both of them had other places to stay; Vic had his little apartment in Hell’s Kitchen, and Gar had his adopted father’s mansion. Maybe Gar just liked it here because it was less of a hike to the bathroom or the kitchen…

Vic checked the security camera, and sure enough, Gar was leaning on the counter while something warmed on the stove. He had a collection of ridiculously adorable pajamas (not that anyone would tell him that), and was currently sporting blue ones with a pattern of purple terry bears and little yellow stars. And – Vic zoomed in on a telltale movement – he was eating Chocos. Not good. Must have been a bad one. He spared a glance at Gar’s face, feeling uncomfortably like he was spying – and then immediately stopped watching the camera. Gar probably wouldn’t want him seeing him so upset.

Tear-tracks on green skin took a little practice to spot, but Vic had unfortunately seen it before. Rarely, though – normally Gar changed if he was getting choked up, because humans are the only animals that cry. He leaned forward in his chair thoughtfully for a moment, tapping a metal fingertip to his lips. Coming to a decision, he hit the intercom link to the rec room and spoke, keeping his voice quiet so as not to startle his young friend too much.

“Hey Gar, that you? If you’re going to be up for a few minutes, come keep me company. I’m bored as hell down here.”

Vic saw Gar move to the intercom, his peripheral vision catching the movement on the screen.

“Sure. Gimme a minute.” Gar made the effort to sound …not cheerful, but at least not upset. He mostly sounded tired. Vic smiled as he heard a huge yawn, probably for effect. The kid was an actor, anyway.

“No prob. Hey – snag me a can of root beer from the fridge while you’re at it.”

“Okay,” Gar said. Just ‘okay’, not ‘you’re only interested in me for my ability to bring you snacks’ or something else dramatic. Hmmm.

It wasn’t very long before Gar shuffled into the room, a mug of warm milk in one hand, and a can of root beer in the other, the rest of the bag of Chocos tucked under his arm. He yawned again, as Vic swiveled his chair to greet him.

“Hey, Green Genes. Pull up a chair.”

“Mmm,” said Gar, setting his burdens down on a console. Dick would have a mild fit if he knew, but Vic knew that there was nothing irreplaceable or vital in that spot should anything get spilled. Besides, he’d caught the Boy Wonder snacking at the computer a time or two.

“What’s up?” Gar asked, digging out the Chocos while Vic opened his pop can.

“Not much of anything. It’s been pretty quiet as far as I can tell, which is why I’m bored.”

“You could watch TV, as long as it wasn’t something too engaging,” Gar suggested, dunking a cookie into his milk. Vic gazed at the mop of green hair bent industriously over his task, guessing Gar still wasn’t sure of his face.

“Nothin’ good on. I actually watched some soccer earlier.”

Gar looked up, nose wrinkling and mouth full of cookie. He wasn’t a soccer fan.

“You _are_ bored,” Gar said. Soccer wasn’t Vic’s favourite sport, either.

“Like you wouldn’t believe. I turned the television off when I caught myself watching Star Trek.”

Gar grunted. The television show he’d been on had gone off the air when it was successfully sued with ripping off Star Trek and some other show.

“You ever go to those convention things? As a guest speaker or whatever?” Vic hadn’t seen him do it, but he was hoping that chatting would keep Gar from looking any more depressed. Not that the kid didn’t have the right to be depressed sometimes – hell, if Vic had lived Gar’s life, he’d be even worse for brooding than he was now – but Gar usually tried to cover with humour, and that he wasn’t bothering right now bothered Vic. Maybe Gar was too tired to bother.

Maybe he was beginning to trust Vic enough that he didn’t feel the need.

“No. R-Rita laid down the law, said I couldn’t until I was done school. Dayton is sticking to it.”

“I suppose that makes sense. They probably take up a lot of time.”

Vic was still looking at Gar, and this time when Gar looked up, they just stared at each other for a long, silent moment.

At a loss for anything more reassuring to do, Vic reached out and gave Gar’s arm a light squeeze and then went back to watching the monitors. If he stared any longer, _one_ of them was bound to get embarrassed. He heard Gar move, and then the tray of Chocos was plunked in his lap, and Gar was leaning against the side of the chair sipping his milk.

“What's that you’re reading?”

“Oh, just a research paper. Holograms. Boring stuff.” Vic lifted a hand, intending to get rid of the article, but paused when he noticed Gar leaning forward to read it.

“…You understand that stuff?”

“Yeah. Dad pounded a lot of science into my head as a kid.” Not to mention experimenting on Vic to boost his intelligence, but he didn’t like to talk about that much.

“Wow. I suck at science.”

“Says Mr. Budding Zoologist.” Vic snorted disbelief.

“That’s Biology, it’s different. I study the animals so I can become them. Like... method acting.” Gar frowned at his mug. “Dayton… he’s not real happy about my marks lately. He’s been making noises about making me go to a real school.”

There was silence for a moment.

“What’s your worst subject?” Vic asked. Gar sighed.

“Most of them. Biology I’m good with. Been doing pretty okay with English, too, although less so now that I’m done Shakespeare –“

“Wait – ‘done Shakespeare’? ‘Done’ how?” Vic swiveled around in his chair to look at Gar.

“Read all the plays, did a few essays on each of them. Then they hit me with the sonnets, and wham! We’re into poetry. I mean sure, poetry is cool if it’s done right, but some of this stuff is _boring_.”

“You’ve read _all_ of Shakespeare’s plays?”

“Yeah.” Gar raised his eyebrows at Vic over the lip of his mug. “Essential reading when you want to be an actor. Donna gave me a book of translated Greek plays, too. I’m reading those when I get sick of poetry. Working through Euripides’ stuff right now.”

“And you’re doing _badly_ in school?”

“Well, yeah, in math and science and some other stuff.” Gar picked up another Choco. “Boring stuff.”

“Look – if you get really stuck, I could probably tutor you, if you want.”

Gar blinked at him, startled by the offer, frozen in the act of biting into the cookie. “Um,” he said after he’d chewed and swallowed. “Are you sure? I mean, thanks – but do you have time?”

Vic shrugged. “I’ll make time.”

Gar’s eyes shimmered, and he suddenly changed into a cat landing lightly on the arm of Vic’s chair. He bumped his head against Vic’s shoulder affectionately. Vic picked him up and pet him like you would a normal cat, and Gar purred. And yawned.

“Maybe you should head back to bed,” Vic suggested, holding Gar to his shoulder as he moved the rest of the Chocos onto the console, next to Gar’s empty mug.

“Mmmno, too lazy.” Gar wriggled free and climbed onto the back of Vic’s chair, where he settled down, flicking a furry green tail against Vic’s neck. “Time for a catnap.”

“Gar, go to bed.” Vic craned to look at his now-feline friend. Gar resolutely pretended to sleep, still purring. Vic chuckled, and leaned back in his chair, knocking Gar off with a bump of his head, causing a mad clawed scramble for stability.

“AaaAAGH!”

Vic chuckled more, as Gar once again got settled, giving his friend the kind of dirty look only a cat can manage.

And that was how Starfire found them when she came in to take over Monitor duty a few hours later. She raised an eyebrow and smiled but didn’t ask. Vic scooped up Gar and slung him over one shoulder – he was sleeping for real now, and a sleeping cat is always at least twice as heavy as an awake cat – and he cleared up the mess their snack had made before heading upstairs to the floor their rooms were on.

“Mm,” said Gar.

“Bedtime,” Vic replied.

“Don’t go,” Gar protested, sounding distinctly unhappy. Vic paused on the stairs, switching his grip on Gar to cradling the little green animal in the crook of one arm.

“Gar?”

Suddenly Vic was holding just over a hundred pounds of pajama-clad boy. He made a quick grab and managed not to drop him, helped by the fact that Gar grabbed _him_ and clung like the monkey he so often turned into. Gar tucked his face into the crook of Vic’s neck.

“Gar? You awake?”

“…don’t go…” His voice sounded so _small_ … Vic thought about Gar’s tear-streaked face on the monitor, and he sighed.

“Alright, alright. You can bed down with me. But! If you complain about how cold my feet are, I will _seriously_ kick you out.” Gar mumbled an okay into Vic’s neck, and so he carried him the rest of the way up the stairs and into his room. His room because Gar’s room had way too many posters for Vic’s liking, and Vic’s bed was reinforced to hold his not-inconsiderable weight.

He set Gar down, and tucked him in, and then ducked into his bathroom to change into something roughly approximating pajamas. Normally he didn’t bother, but he didn’t feel like inflicting on Gar the feeling of sleeping with – sleeping _next to_ someone with metal parts on the surface. And so, clad in light jogging pants and an old t-shirt, he got into bed.

Vic lay on his back, his arms up over his head and his wrists crossed behind his head, and Gar almost immediately curled up next to him, pillowing his head on Vic’s shoulder and throwing an arm over his chest to hug him tightly. It felt… strangely not at all weird. Really, sharing a bed with a sixteen-year-old boy should be much weirder, but… it was _Gar_. Gar was pretty touchy-feely anyway; maybe Vic was just used to the contact now.

Really, he had had more physical contact with Gar since he became a cyborg than almost anyone else. He didn’t mind. They’d become pretty close friends in the short time they’d known each other. Not that he made a practice of sleeping with his friends.

Vic groaned and covered his eyes with his forearm. This did not bear thinking on. He would figure out how to explain this later – if he needed to at all. For now he just closed his eyes, listened to Gar’s heartbeat, and went to sleep.

 


End file.
